


Dry Lips over Chapped

by hafital



Category: Tillerman Cycle - Voigt
Genre: Dicey Tillerman - Freeform, F/M, Gram, Jeff Greene - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-25
Updated: 2008-12-25
Packaged: 2017-10-09 08:27:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/85074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hafital/pseuds/hafital
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dicey had never climbed a mountain, but when she looked into Jeff's eyes sometimes she felt like she had, like she was standing right at the top.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dry Lips over Chapped

**Author's Note:**

> Written for JunoMagic in the Yuletide 2008 Challenge. Thank you to Terri for betaing.

***

_Jeff kept looking at Dicey. As first dates go, it hadn't gone exactly as planned. Not a typical first date. No soda and a movie for Dicey. But then again, Dicey wasn't a typical girl, and neither was he a typical boy. They'd gone night crabbing instead: cold, hard water, sloshy boat. She'd loved it. He could tell by the eagerness in her eyes, and by her bright rosy cheeks caught in the headlights of his car. She was still quiet, though, only giving him compact little sentences he had to unpack to find their meaning._

_She made him work, no doubt about it. And he loved it. He wouldn't have her any other way. _

_He couldn't stop looking at her, wanting to get close but afraid he'd scare her away. They sat on a blanket he kept in the trunk, looking out to the water, the moonlight dancing in dappled splendor. She was young. Just turned fourteen, but she was even younger than that, in a way. Younger and older. When he looked into her eyes, he saw someone so strong, and clever, like the sailboats she fell in love with. She was like a sailboat, one that caught the wind easily, one that could sail away, run away if you didn't keep your hand on the tiller. Not too stiff a hand, but not too loose, either. Her hair was brushed awkwardly back from her face, and there was a smudge of something down one cheek._

_She noticed him staring, a challenge in her eyes. "Is that all you're going to do?"_

_He blinked. "I'm sorry."_

_Silence fell between them. He wondered if he should take her home. She shifted closer. He held his breath. She put her hands on his shoulders, lifted his face up to look at her. Her hands were cold, icy. They burned his skin. _

_She leaned in and kissed him, dry lips over chapped, and he held her face and kissed her again._

 

***

Dicey pulled up the crab line. The water numbed her skin, it was that cold, but she didn't mind. She just reached right in and pulled up the trap. Jeff held the basket for her and Dicey shook the pot until the crabs fell out. She smiled at Jeff. She watched his eyes matching the gray skies overhead. Looking at Jeff was like looking at a view from a mountaintop, draped with clouds hanging over valleys and long far off distances. Dicey had never climbed a mountain, but when she looked into Jeff's eyes sometimes she felt like she had, like she was standing right at the top.

Bracing against the side of the boat, she leaned over and kissed him. Not a gentle kiss, her lips smashing against his, but she made it last, opened her mouth a little to taste him.

"What was that for?" He looked stunned, goopy smile on his face.

"Do I need a reason?" she snapped back, but it only made him laugh. His laugh could always make her smile.

"Never. I'm open for kisses. Anytime you want them."

She rolled her eyes, but his words warmed her right up, like a hot water bottle placed on her belly. The cool spring air felt great against her skin. The sun shined down, coming out from behind the clouds and Dicey lifted her face up to the sky. "Let's not go back right away," she said. The crabs could wait. Not for too long, but they could wait for a minute. "Let's just sit here."

Jeff didn't answer but moved the basket of crabs to the side. He sat at the back of the boat and tugged at Dicey's sleeve until she got the message. She moved to sit against him, between his legs. He was warm at her back.

It was Jeff's spring break. He'd have to go back to school in a couple of days. She would miss him. Had missed him. Had almost lost him for good. It had been close, so close it made her stomach hurt to think about how she'd messed up so badly. After the winter, working so hard, working every day, all day, for a business she couldn't keep, that cost her more than all of that money she'd lost, she guessed she was lucky to be able to lean up against Jeff, to feel his heart beating steady, and feel his breath whisper against the skin of her cheek. She threaded her fingers through his. Come summer, they would get married. It wasn't real to her yet. It was just an idea, held out in front of her like a carrot, like a dream still too far away. She guessed it would be real enough in June. She guessed when they put rings on their fingers, it would be as real as it could get.

She had planned it differently. First the boats, then she'd get married to Jeff. But that's not how it worked out. One thing she learned, not much ever goes according to plan.

"Can I ask you something?" Jeff's voice vibrated against her back.

"Sure." She turned so she could see his face. She could just about fit, nestled between his legs. It made her warm. She wanted to kiss him again, but the searching look in his eyes told her he had something he needed to say and she better be willing to listen.

"Promise not to get mad?"

"How can I promise that?"

He shifted a little against her. "When are you going to start building your boat? It's been weeks now, since you let the shop go, and you haven't so much as looked at your tools. I know you. I know you're not happy unless you're working on something."

Dicey became still, looking at a pale freckle on Jeff's cheek. She'd learned a hard lesson this past winter. Learned she needed to think smaller. She thought of that wood in the barn, and felt like she could choke, like all of the wood was being shoved down her throat. She wanted to built her boat, she just wasn't sure she would succeed. The feeling turned sour in her stomach. The shop, her plans, her wishes, they'd all come crumbling down. But her muscles remembered. Her hands craved work, her body hummed with inactivity.

She didn't answer, moving away from the cradle of Jeff's legs. "We better go back," she said, trying hard to sound neutral, like she didn't care.

"Dicey."

"Gram's waiting." She froze him out, turning to tug on the anchor until it came loose.

"Will you just listen for a minute?"

She didn't answer, pulling on the starter so the growl of the engine swallowed his words. In a few minutes she docked the boat and leapt onto shore, tying the mooring line. Before she could turn and walk away, Jeff grabbed her arm, made her turn to face him.

A picture popped into her mind of how she must look, stubborn jaw jutting out, eyes blazing.

Jeff took a deep breath, holding his hands out in front of him, palms open. Like he needed to calm himself, more than her. She felt instantly sorry, forgetting again how fragile Jeff could be. It was so easy to hurt him.

"All right," she said. "Say whatever it is you want to say. I'll listen."

His gray eyes brought the sky and the ocean together. He laughed suddenly, something that had been hard between them softening, melting away. "You're really something, you know that?"

"Yeah, I guess I do." She smiled back at him.

He took her hand, picked up the basket of crabs in the other. "I was just thinking -- I know you're going to say no, but just hear me out. There's that tech school, in Baltimore. Like a trade school. They offer courses in design, engineering, that sort of thing. There's even one just on boat building. Here," he paused, setting down the basket for a moment, pulling out some papers tucked into his back pocket. "I got some brochures for you to look at. Just to look at. You don't have to do anything, nothing at all, if you don't want to."

Dicey took the brochures, looking at the glossy pictures of men and women happy at their studies, one sitting at a drafting table, another wearing goggles and holding a clipboard. She turned to the part that listed tuition. It was twenty dollars a unit. She added it up in her head. "I couldn't pay for this."

Jeff paused before answering. "I'll pay for it."

Dicey turned away and let silence built back up between them. They started walking back toward the house. She went ahead of Jeff, walking slightly faster, making him play catch up. She reached the house first, not holding the door for him when she entered.

Gram sat at the kitchen table, shelling peas. She looked up when Dicey entered. "Well, I did start to wonder if we'd ever see either of you two again," said Gram.

Dicey dropped the brochures on the table. "There's something I have to do upstairs," she said, quickly leaving the kitchen and heading for her room. It was cowardly and she knew it, but she didn't care. Right at that moment the only thing she wanted was to be alone.

Gram's dark eyes followed her out of the room. Dicey didn't look back at Jeff.

 

*

In the morning, when the sky was still mostly dark, before anyone else was awake, Dicey went out to the barn. The dinghies she kept in storage were there, tucked to one side. The wood she'd bought from Ken, still under its blanket, was ready to be used. She felt an itch in her palms, a tightening of the muscles along her shoulder, and down the back of her legs.

The thing is, she didn't have a clue how to begin. She'd read those books until she thought her eyes might pop right out of her head, and still she could only guess to what the first step in building a boat might be.

So the boat she built might sink. So what. She'd just build another one until she got it right. Still, she didn't touch the wood. Something in her gut told her she was being stupid. Well, it wasn't the first time.

There was something hollow in Dicey's stomach. She chased the bad feeling down, back and back until she could put a name to it: Jeff. She needed to talk to him.

There was work to be done on the boat Gram had given her. The bottom needed to be scraped, sanded and repainted.

The door to the barn creaked open. Dicey recognized the quiet cat-like steps of her grandmother. Dicey picked up a scraper, started to wipe it clean. It was a cold morning, and Gram was still not all well after recovering from pneumonia. "You should not be out here."

"I won't be but a minute." Gram was wrapped in a blanket. She'd tugged on rain boots and Dicey could see her brown knitted stocks bunched up over the rim of the boots. Gram clutched a cup of tea in her hands. Her wild gray curls stuck out in every direction.

"Well, say what you're going to say, then."

Gram made a sound, dark eyes snapping. She nodded toward the wood. "How long are you going to let that sit untouched?"

"That wood is not anyone's business but mine," said Dicey, finally mad. She gripped the scraper hard in her hand. "I'll decide when and what I'm going to do with it. It's not any of your business."

"It's in my barn, and you're granddaughter. I'd say that's as much my business as anybody's."

"Fine. I'll move it."

"Don't be stupid, girl. You never have been before."

Dicey tightened her jaw. Her cheeks were hot. But she knew she was being stupid. Slowly, Gram nodded at her. All the fire went out of Dicey and then she didn't feel hot anymore. She only felt cold and worn out. She ran her hand down the side of the sailboat, seeing how the wood was joined together, how it bent toward the bow. The boat had clean lines. She could almost take it apart in her mind, like a three-dimensional picture.

"You're going to marry that boy. We Tillermans are made of ninety percent stubborn pride, but you have to bend a little, girl, or else you'll break."

Dicey kept her hand against the side of the boat, feeling the grain of the wood. She walked slowly around the boat.

"It's not just the money," she said. The rest of what she wanted to say was stuck in her throat. She didn't know how to say it.

"Good," said Gram with a nod. She sipped her tea. "As far as I can tell, money's burden enough whether you have it or not. But it's taken me a long time to learn the difference between charity and friendship."

Dicey grinned. She always loved the things Gram said.

"Well, out with it. My feet are cold. Do you want to go to that school?"

Dicey bit her lip. She wanted it more than anything.

"You do," said Gram. "Then, girl, just say yes."

"But," Dicey had to look down. Her eyes stung. "It'll be such a waste. Not just the money, but everything. What did this winter teach me other than I'm not cut out for this?" Dicey felt frozen, unable to move. The school, the boat building, the dreams of having her own business, those were things of yesterday. Dicey had learned not to dwell on dreams. Her dreams were too big. "I'd fail."

Gram snorted. "Dicey Tillerman, you never failed at anything in your life."

Dicey lifted her chin. Losing the shop after only a couple of months wasn't a failure? She could make a long list of everything she'd done wrong, from dreaming up the crazy notion that she could ever run her own business to ending with letting that Cisco character con her out of her money. But the worst was nearly losing Jeff and Gram, too. Gram's face was no longer flushed from fever, and she only coughed a little now, but it could have been so much worse.

"I know what you're thinking, girl, but you have it all wrong. True failure would be never having tried. You know," said Gram, walking to the door of the barn. She'd finished her tea. Dicey could see that Gram's nose was red. It was far too cold for her, and she wasn't all well yet. "You know, when I think of failure I think of your grandfather, so choked up with fear he made this farm a prison, clung to it like honeysuckle to a trellis. That way he could blame the farm, and us, rather than himself, for his failures. You think about that, girl. You think long and hard."

Gram left, closing the barn door, leaving Dicey alone with only her unmade boat for company.

 

*

The sun shone between clouds and through the leaves, leaving sprinkles of sunshine scattered across the ground. Dicey hiked through the fields of the farm, into the bit of wilderness and scattered trees that grew along the bay. For the last eight years, while living with Gram, she had only explored a little bit of the farm's land. She guessed she'd been too busy with other things. She guessed there was a lot in her life she'd set aside for the sake of chasing dreams.

The thing is, she wasn't a dreamer. Had never been one to stare out a window and build castles in the sky. So how did she get herself into this place?

Dicey could see a trampled trail, overgrown with weeds but still clearly defined. There was something about the wind and the salty scent off the bay that made her want to run, made her limbs twitch with the desire for activity. She gave in to the impulse and ran along the beaten path. She ran for only a few minutes before she had to stop, cold air slicing through her lungs, chest hurting.

Panting, she bent over, rested her hands on her knees. How did her Uncle Bullet do it? He was a runner, they said. Made for running cross country. With sudden inspiration she realized the beaten, overgrown path was his track. This was where her Uncle Bullet ran every day. She felt connected to him in a way she never had before.

Uncle Bullet lived only eighteen years. He died right out of high school. But he wasn't a failure. Neither was Gram, who had lived nearly every day of her life right there in Crisfield, more than half of it on the farm, alone, or near to it. Gram had lost hold of her family, all of her children leaving one after the other never to return. That must hurt, in ways Dicey would never know, but now Gram had a family again. She had friends, people who cared about her and who she cared about in return. That was life. That was living. With all its aches and pains.

Dicey started running again, more slowly, enjoying the dappled sunlight and the breeze off the bay with its crabby smells. She ran even though her heart felt like it would explode and her feet hurt in her inappropriate-for-running shoes. She ran until she fell, tumbling over an old root sticking out of the ground, landing hard on her left knee. A burst of pain, bright and red behind her eyes, blinded her momentarily. The ground was cold beneath her palms.

Well, she thought, so much for a career as a runner! She started laughing, lying on her back on the cold ground, staring up at the patchwork sky and laughing until her stomach hurt. She hadn't laughed so hard in longer than she could remember. It felt good to laugh.

She didn't know what time it was. The shadows grew long. Someone called her name, sung it out in a long clear two-syllable call, like she was a dog or a cat called home. "I'm here," she yelled back, trying to stand. Her knee throbbed. She sat back down again and waited for help.

"What are you doing?" asked Sammy, jogging up the path. "Just sitting there?"

"I fell, if you must know. Hit my knee pretty bad."

Sammy grunted, kneeling down to her level. "Gram was scared. You know how she gets," he said.

Dicey nodded. When Gram got scared, she screwed her lips up tight, her eyes turned hard and cold, and her skin became pale. Anybody else would think she was angry, but the Tillermans knew her too well. "Come on. Better get me back."

Sammy grinned. They walked slowly, Dicey leaning her weight against her brother. Sammy was strong. He could have easily carried her, but she insisted on walking, testing her weight a little on her left leg. It hurt, bright pain sharp like needles in her skin.

Gram greeted them at the steps to the back door. "I'm okay," said Dicey, bravely looking at her grandmother. Gram's cheeks went from pale to a rosy blush, and her eyes flashed at Dicey. "Tripped on a root running over Bullet's path."

Gram's lips twitched. "Set her down in the living room, Sammy."

She was plopped on the sofa. Maybeth tucked a blanket around her, rubbed her hands warm, rolled the leg of Dicey's jeans up to take a look at the damage. There was a large bruise forming, and some of the skin had been scraped, a little blood beading on the wound. The jeans were ripped at the knee. Watching her sister's careful administration calmed any lingering anxiety in Dicey's heart. Maybeth had that sort of effect on her, on everybody. Watching Maybeth was like watching sunshine skipping along the gentle waves of the bay.

Gram was on the phone with Doctor Landros. Dicey wanted to groan, not wanting the Doctor to come all the way out to the farm just for a bruised knee, but she laughed instead at the mess she'd gotten herself into. Maybeth smiled at her. "I think you'll be fine," said Maybeth.

"That's for the doctor to decide," said Gram, the bite in her words underlined with the quicksilver smile that flashed across her face. She laid a hand on Maybeth's shoulder to indicate she wasn't really mad. Maybeth smiled again, moving off to build up a fire in the fireplace. "Doctor Landros's on her way. Mind telling me what you were doing out there?"

Dicey had many answers to that question. She settled on one. "Thinking hard."

With her bird-bright eyes shining in the firelight, Gram nodded, just once, and Dicey knew that that was all she needed to say. She sat back into the sofa, leg propped up on a pillow.

 

*

Doctor Landros inspected Dicey's knee. Her hands were cold against the hot throbbing pain. She made Dicey bend the knee, then straighten it. "Well, it's not broken. And I can't see that anything's torn. It's just banged up pretty bad. You're a lucky young woman." Doctor Landros sat back, looked around the room at Gram and Maybeth and Sammy. "All of you are ridiculously lucky," she said with an amused chopped laugh.

"Stubborn is more like it," said Sammy with his sunny grin.

"No argument from me there. Now," continued Doctor Landros, taking a long bandage from her bag. She wrapped Dicey's knee tight. "You'll have to stay off it for at least two weeks. I've got a pair of crutches I can lend you."

Dicey opened her mouth to protest. She could hop around just fine without crutches. But Doctor Landros cut her off.

"I said 'lend', not 'give', so don't give me that Tillerman pout. Just give me a second to get them out of my car. I had a feeling and put them in there before coming out."

"Yes, ma'am," said Dicey, suppressing another laugh. She wasn't usually one for laughing, but ever since her fall things were looking a lot funnier.

Doctor Landros bustled outside to fetch the crutches, then sat down in the kitchen to have a cup of tea with Gram. Sammy patted Dicey on the shoulder and then went up to his room. Maybeth sat at the piano, playing a piece of music that trilled up and down and then wrapped around. Dicey wondered how the melody didn't trip over itself.

She grabbed the crutches, hauled herself to standing. It took a bit of getting used to, but Dicey learned how to carry most of her weight in her arms, so as not to have the crutches bite into her armpits. She hobbled over to the phone.

Jeff picked up on the eighth ring. "Hey, it's me," she said.

"Dicey?"

"Can you come pick me up?" There was a long pause. Dicey jumped into the silence. "I'd take the truck out to see you, but I'm not sure I can drive with my knee busted. I'm fine, though. I just can't put pressure on it. Fell down today. How are you?"

There was another long pause. "Give me ten minutes."

Dicey waited at the bottom of the steps, standing on her good leg, letting her weight rest on the crutches. She put one foot on top of the other, watching for Jeff's car when it turned in from the road.

The car creaked to a stop. Dicey hopped over. Jeff got out and walked around the car, stopping in front of the passenger's door. He put his hands on his hips. Dicey squinted up at him. "I leave you alone for one day."

She grinned. "I don't seem to ever do well when you're not around."

He frowned a little at that, but his gray eyes were like clouds parting and letting in the blue sky. Dicey could see something ease along his shoulders. He placed the crutches in the back seat, held the door for her so she could slide in.

"Anyplace in particular you want to drive to?"

"No. But stay close to the water. I'll tell you when to stop."

It was still early enough in the day for a couple more hours of light. They drove along the waterfront, although the road was too far inland; she could only catch a glint or two of the water. Dicey was waiting for something, she didn't know what it was, but she knew she'd recognize it when she saw it.

A heron flew out from the vegetation growing along the bank. "There," she said, pointing. "Park around here."

A strange, startled expression passed over Jeff's face but it quickly faded. He parked the car. They took the blanket Jeff kept in the trunk. It was difficult managing over the marsh grass and the thick underbrush, but Dicey just kept going, letting Jeff help her every once in a while. They laid out the blanket. Dicey plopped down, then lay back, looking up at the sky. Jeff sat next to her, leaning back on his hands, looking around.

"I'm sorry," she said. "You caught me off guard."

He smiled a little. "Yeah. I didn't mean to."

"I know. And I accept." She felt a little light-headed as she said it, but it felt good.

The heron came back, squawked once, annoyed at their intrusion into his territory, and then proceeded to ignore Dicey and Jeff completely, going about its business of staring out across the water. Jeff lay next to her, raising his torso up on an elbow. He touched her face. He was smiling crookedly, like the smile was trying to get loose but he kept a good hold on it, pulling it back. As she looked up at him, she thought she could live in his eyes forever. "I'm glad," he said.

She pulled him over her, like a blanket. He was careful with her knee. He brushed his lips against her forehead, her eyelids, then each cheekbone. He hissed when she slipped her cold hands under his sweater and shirt to touch his skin. She laughed and then pulled him down into a kiss, dry lips over chapped.


End file.
